Together: Berlin Wall
by SomethingSimsy
Summary: Germany considers whether the man behind the Berlin Wall, East Germany from the times of the Cold War, was his beloved brother, Prussia, who he believes is dead following his dissolution and execution by the people he is forced to rely on during his hardships. (Contains: mentions of character death and possible upsetting themes - Rated T as I'm unsure where this would place it)


**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

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I caught as much as a glimpse of East in the time that there was no wall, but a glimpse was enough. I saw _him_, I tell you, _him_! It's impossible, I know it is, but... but it has to be true, doesn't it? A great part of East was where he once was, so, it has to be him! Or at least a part, if _only_ a _part_, it still _has _to be _him_!

It _has_ to be _Bruder_, doesn't it?

It was a bitter morning on the twenty-fifth of February, 1947. The temperature was barely above freezing, but I expected it; I was in Berlin, after all, and it was _still _winter, even if it was nearing the beginning of spring. I didn't know what I was waiting for, exactly; I didn't know what it was like when a country ceased to exist, but it wasn't something I wanted to see, especially not... especially not when it was my Bruder.

The Allies blamed him for _everything_. Suddenly all of my mistakes were solely _his_, and I couldn't stop them from making their decision. I tried and tried and _tried _to explain to them that I was responsible for all the mistakes of the war – only _me_ – but they wouldn't _even_ listen! They blamed _Preuβen_ because of who they thought he _was_, not what they thought he did. I volunteered to be terminated in his place, I tried to force them to just _leave him alone_, but... but _neither _of them listened.

Preuβen told me he would take the fall. I... I didn't know what to say, or what to do, but I wouldn't allow it! I _couldn't _allow it! But he pushed me away, just like all the others. He stood above me with a sweet smile and watery eyes; it seemed so uncommon of him, but even in the happiest of people is sadness, and love.

"_You're still young, Deutschland. There's no point in trying to save me now! Live on, Bruder. And do me proud, won't you? Nah, what am I saying, I _know_ you wouldn't do the awesome me any less! Be good for me, yeah?" _he said, quietly ruffling my hair like when I was a child, and he was my older brother.

It amazed me how he could even keep up a smile. But then I was proved wrong. It trembled. And then _he _trembled.

I caught him, letting him lay limply in my arms. His whole body shook violently, small cries of distress started to come out of his mouth, and his knees buckled. He fell to the floor, completely destroyed, tears endlessly rolling down his blotchy cheeks from his bloodshot eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he hyperventilated. I was devastated; how did my mighty, powerful brother end up like _this_? But I held him to me and comforted him, and he buried his head into my chest, his warm tears soaking through my shirt. I could feel his warmth against me, and I knew I would never feel it again. I was _never _going to feel my Bruder again, or see his stupid smile or hear his irritating laugh, or any of the things that annoyed me so much that I secretly _loved_. He was my Bruder and I loved him like a parent and he loved me like a child. He was my big Bruder who was there from the start of my life, but he was _never_ to be there at the end.

It was decided he was to be _executed_, more formally known as _dissolution_, by none other than the Allies, sent to belong to history and nothing more, and nothing less. He was to be frozen in time, like a museum piece, something to read about in history books, but never to touch and never to keep. And then he was gone, without a single trace. The land was there but the ruler was not. There was no humanity left in it.

But he _returned_.

It was a hot day on the East-West border; it was just before mid August at the time, the thirteenth to be exact, and I couldn't have hoped for better weather. The sun was shining and there was the occasional light breeze, making sure it wasn't too warm or too cold. The streets were crowded with citizens enjoying the good weather, and the road lined with bicycles and the occasional motorist, speeding past the lively streets of the city. It was beautiful. But then I saw the reason for my visit.

Barricades of light fencing and barbed wire had been set up in a long line that reached the horizon, as far as the eye could see. Fragments of tarmac and cobblestone had been thrown over the ground, ripped up from parts of the roads where they were perfectly clean and intact the previous day. They were also in use the previous day, but not a single vehicle drove up the now-blockaded road. _This must be the border control_, I thought, walking parallel to the barricades across from me, until I got a closer look at one of the side-roads.

Hiding behind the thick trunk of a nearby oak was some sort of uniformed man, along with another on the opposite side of the road from him. One was talking to a passerby who swiftly walked in the direction they must have come from, getting away from the officer as fast as they could, and as a car swerved into the road they were abruptly stopped by the other officer who swiftly took a step toward the car, and started pointing the driver in the other direction.

I already knew why this was all happening; the station police officers, the barricades, the _restrictions_. I had heard of it as soon as the plan was made. I was told that a wall was being set up on the border of mine and of the East's, which was to be referred to as the '_Berlin Wall_'.

I made my best attempts when I was told to voice my concerns. _"I know there have been riots in East's land, but is a _wall_ really necessary? Is it–"_

"_It's happening, Germany," _England said, looking at me straight in the eye above paperwork he was shuffling, which he then set down neatly on the desk in front of him, _"there's nothing to be done."_

I tried again. _"But there has to be something–"_

"_We are sorry you disagree, Allemagne," _France said as he packed away whatever he had on his desk into a briefcase that he swiftly closed once he was finished, _"but it has to be done."_

"_But–"_

"_But nothing, Germany, I'm afraid. There is nothing we–" _

"_Dude, if you want anyone to blame then blame the one who calls themselves the mother of the Soviet Union! He's the idiot who–"_

"_He's the one who released the speech, Allemagne." _France said, trying to be supportive. When I didn't reply he turned to England.

"_He's the one who said that border controls would be set up at the border of the German Democratic Republic," _England said, lifting a loosely clenched fist to his mouth and clearing his throat, _"or, 'East', to you, Germany."_

"_I've heard of the speech." _ I said softly but distantly, looking down at the papers spread out in front of me.

There was a collection of different notes and papers laid out on the desk, all of which were either from or about the Soviet Union, or East. But there was only one that caught my eye.

_In order to put a stop to the hostile activity of West Germany's and West Berlin's revanchist and militaristic forces, border controls of the kind generally found in every sovereign state will be set up at the border of the German Democratic Republic, including the border to the western sectors of Greater Berlin._

It was a statement by East's Council of Ministers. But East's people didn't agree, and neither did he. But there was nothing I, he, England, France _or _America could do about it. They had agreed that the Soviet Union would take total control over East, as long as they had control over _me_. And that they shook on.

I was glad they had taken me in, but they hadn't done much in protecting East from the Soviet regime. Just like the treatment Preuβen received. I couldn't believe they were doing it again, perhaps less willingly this time, but on the inside I wasn't sure they even _cared_. Would they have helped if they could have? It wasn't a probable affirmative. It was hard to trust them and their decisions, but I had to, or I wouldn't survive. I tried to compare the situation if I and East switched roles; it didn't make me feel any freer. If anything, it made me feel _more _constricted.

"_I think we're done for today, Germany. As you already know, the wall's planned construction date is the thirteenth of August of this year." _England stated, him, France and America all pushing back their chairs and standing to their feet in unison. _"We can only hope that over events in 1961 hold more pleasing news, for all of us. And if you need anything, just get in contact with us. We support you, Germany, and we are leading you in your best interest."_

The only thing I was sure they supported was _themselves_. They didn't view me as a living being like they did for each other, I was sure. I was just another piece of land that they kept the communists out of, and that's all I was. I was their trophy, and East was the Soviet's. I wasn't something that was _living_,anymore. I was something to take and something to rule, even if I was ruled well; I was still not _free_, not entirely, anyway. But I didn't argue. What _was _there to argue? I doubt they would listen, and even if they did, I needed them. They would help in the fight for East, even if for some of them it was just selfish desires, it still was _help_. He'd be free one day. And I'd help him. He was my Bruder, and you don't leave family behind!

So there I stood, finding myself once again standing in the middle of a bustling city that was soon to be divided, as planned, and as I already knew. I had come to view where the wall would stand. I had seen plenty of maps, but they weren't enough; I had to see what was being disturbed. I had to _feel _what was _actually _being destroyed, which wasn't just tarmac, even though a lot of the time _it was_. I'd already known that streets were being split down the middle, homes being bricked up and evacuated. _Lives _were being _ruined_. But it was just another part of the process to the Eastern officials. It just _couldn'_t be helped. They didn't _want _it to be helped.

And then, I saw _him_.

It was East, standing several metres in front of me behind the strings of barbed wire. I couldn't see him clearly through the crosshatching of the thin metal strips, but I saw enough.

He stood with one arm horizontally crossing his waist, and the other straight by his side. He wore military-styled clothes and rubber, lace-up boots, with a hat that cast enough shadows to completely blacken his upper face. I was barely able to even make out as far down as his mouth, but I could. I could have also sworn he was mouthing something to me, but it was hard to make it out, so I ignored it. _He's just breathing_, I thought, continuing to blankly stare in his direction. Then he took me completely and utterly by surprise.

He bent down at the waist, rolling the hand by his side as he did so, keeping his head down throughout the whole affair. I couldn't quite believe it; he was _bowing_ to me, I was sure of it; _that _much couldn't have simply been coincidence. Then, he looked up to me, and removed his headgear.

I froze. I didn't believe it was even _possible _that it could have been him. I felt stupid for even _entertaining_ the particular thought.

As the oak branches continued to sway in the breeze so did the shadows they casted. A very pale, warm blonde colour lit up the tips of his hair in the lighting, shining brilliantly against the silver shade it had in the darkness of the shadows beneath it. His eyes were a deep blood-red with speckles of Prussian blue; the two colours swirled together in places, creating thin rings of violet and indigo. He had porcelain-coloured skin with blotchy pink patches on his hands and his face, showing life and separating him from _the dead_, which was coincidentally what I thought he _was_.

When he caught my reaction his eyes widened, and he smiled. It was a smile that was explicitly held back, but appeared nonetheless a childish smirk in it's nature. It was then that the revelation truly hit me, or at least I started to believe my irrational theories.

He was Preuβen, my Bruder. He was my older Bruder who had been so cruelly _executed _by the people who claimed they wanted to help him, and _me_. It _had _to be a coincidence. It would be impossible otherwise. Yes, that was all, it was entirely coincidental, and there was nothing more to think about. But I couldn't help myself. I couldn't help but _think _what I secretly hoped was true.

"Preuβen?" I whispered, making sure to emphasise each syllable with the movements of my mouth.

He didn't reply. He just continued to smile. Then, he stood up straight and walked toward me, twirling his hat in his hand. I couldn't believe it. Did he want to _talk_? That couldn't be allowed, could it? I was told no communications, but he was coming closer.

He stood just metres from me when he stopped walking. The uniformed officers from before were shooting me and him troubled and ferocious looks, but they let the confrontation continue nonetheless.

"Hallo, West, it's nice to finally meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine." I said with a quick nod of the head. I wanted to proceed with my questions, but I restrained myself. Surely if he was Preuβen he would say something, _wouldn't he_?

"Yes." he muttered, his eyes drifting to his side in unison with his voice. "Well, I doubt we'll see each other again." I nodded in response, and he continued with a faint smile spreading across his lips. "I don't want this wall anymore than you do, you know. I just wanted you to know. Nobody agrees with it; you, me, _or _my people." I nodded again, and he laughed lightly. "It's strange, you know. I feel like I know you."

It was just what I was waiting for. _He remembers_, I thought, a faint smile working its way onto my face, _he knows who I am!_

"_Preuβen–!_"

"But I suppose we are brothers, aren't we? You're the West of me, and I'm the East of you. Like twins." he chuckled lightly. My breath hitched.

_He doesn't remember me, _I thought, a tight lump catching in my throat, _he doesn't remember me at all_.

His eyebrows draw together. "Did you say something?" he said, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side.

"N-no," I muttered, my words stumbling, "nothing important." It wasn't important anymore, anyway.

"Oh." He said with a nod, turning his gaze to the left with a light smile planted on his face. Then, he turned his eyes back to me, there rims now brimming with water, and the white's slightly red. "I'm sorry, then, I just I think I've heard that somewhere before." And with that he turned away from me, his boots slowly but loudly slapping against the pavement.

I only just then processed what was happening. "_Preuβen!_" I shouted, running forward until I found myself tripping over my own feet, stopping abruptly at the barbed wire that was layered in front of me. _This is worth the pain_, I thought, leaning as close to the barrier as I could, wincing as a sharp, intense pain laced at my flesh. "_Preuβen!_ Bitte, _bitte_ come back! I _demand _you to come back _this instant!_" I cried out, wincing in pain on the last word, shrieking the last syllables of my sentence. Then, he turned back to me.

"_Deutschland! What _do you think you are _doing?_" He shouted, running toward me as soon as I cried out again. But amid the pain, I realised something.

"'Deutschland?'" I whispered. He gasped as he heard my words, or realised the meaning of his own, and he stumbled, looking up to me with a look of horror and confusion struck across his features.

He opened and closed his mouth a mile a minute, then he spoke, stuttering as he spluttered his words, "Get _off _of that, you _Dummkopf!_ Are you trying to get yourself _killed?_"

I stumbled backwards at his command, instantly running my hands along my legs where the barbed wire carved at my flesh. I pulled my hand back, totally horrified by the bright, shiny liquid that covered my glove. It was _blood_. I couldn't take my eyes away from the liquid that shone on my hand, or the dark stain that was being soaked into the material of my trousers. But then, I heard something.

I looked up. A figure was running around manically, attempting to lift one leg over the barricade, or climb over it, or do _anything _he could to get to the other side, _my _side.

I could suddenly hear shouting. I turned my head to the source; the two uniformed officers were storming up, as close as they could without slicing themselves to pieces, to the figure that turned to stare at them in disgust and horror as they pointed at him and shouted. I just stared in horror, or awe. When another finger pointed at me the two heads of the officers turned around, looking me up and down before asking me something, their tone still stern but slightly less concerned. But their speech was all a blur. I was focused on the man across from me, East, or Preuβen, or _whoever _he was.

He looked to me, the blurred shouts of the officers still droning on in the background, and we shared a stare. Whoever this man was, he had wanted to help me. But he couldn't. It was the wall. The wall was separating a Samaritan from a man in need – _me_. The pain wasn't so bad, I could still limp, but he _cared_. He cared enough to _care._

Another pair of uniformed figures started to march up to him on the other side, and I flinched at the sudden tightening grip of two hands on either of my shoulders. I watched him get dragged away, kicking and screaming, whilst I was spun around, turned away from the man who was the only one who had wanted to truly help me, to face someone I recognised but _didn't _trust. It was America. He was saying something to me, shaking me lightly by the shoulders he continued to grasp, but I was in a kind of daze. I couldn't make out what he was saying, and my vision became unsteady. The world was swirling around me, and I thought I was stumbling around, tripping over the air, but I had to trust him to hold me. If he didn't hold onto me, who would?

I felt myself falling forwards but I couldn't stop myself. But I didn't need to. I fell onto him and he tried to hold me up, struggling to grab onto me to keep me from falling. He eventually managed to prop me up against him, dropping to his knees with me laid limply in his arms. The lump in my throat grew and rose, but I wouldn't let myself cry. Not in front of America, not in front of _anybody_, except, perhaps, for my Bruder. He's the one who's only ever seen me cry, through my years as a child to when I became fully grown. Or at least that's how _I _see myself. I am fully grown, aren't I? I'm an adult, am I not?

It's hard to know. Perhaps experiences like that are what _truly _make you an adult. No number of years can define such a thing as adulthood. I've survived childhood, even if I have just started to force puzzle pieces together as a substitute, but I've _survived it_. That shows I'm an adult, I'm sure, and I won't let anyone convince me otherwise.

I've _survived_, and I'll continue surviving. As long as I'm not dead, I'm living, and as long as I've lived childhood, I'm an adult, and as long as I'm an adult, then, I must have grown.

And if I've grown, I'm strong. And if I'm strong, then I'll continue surviving. It's an endless loop.

It's the only way to overcome everything with acceptance, or I'll fail, and live forever as a detached zombie who can't forgive and only forgets.

But I don't _want _to forget, and I _want_ to forgive.

Over the next week few weeks the barbed wire was replaced by a wall of concrete slabs and hollow blocks. It was about twelve feet tall, standing double my height, and I heard that it was to be ninety six miles long.

As a distraction for it's purpose I started to consider how to make the wall less of an eyesore. It was completely bare and it made the situation my country, and even more so _East's_, was in all the more distressing. It was then that I decided it would be best to paint the wall.

I walked up to the bare wall, spray can in hand, and started. I knew exactly what I wanted to draw, what I _needed _to draw. This wall was put up to separate me and East, so it would only be right to pay tribute to him with a drawing. I was never famous for my art, but during my war days I had picked up the skill from my friend, Italy, however reluctant I might have been at the time.

I stood back from my work. It was obvious I lacked skill, but it was the best I could provide. But I didn't do it to show skill. I did it for East, and his people, and _my _people. In the most divided of times we need to stay together, or what else is left? Although I often find myself without many friends and in solitude, I don't always like it that way. It's a lonely life to live.

There were footsteps behind me. I somehow expected it to be East, or Preuβen, despite the fact I knew it was impossible. If anybody from the East tries to cross the wall, they are shot down like worthless scum. They aren't allowed freedom. They aren't allowed to _escape_.

I turned around. _Oh_, I thought, my hope visibly dropping, _it's just a stranger. _

"Hand in hand, huh?" the figure said, letting their eyes wander around the freshly painted wall in front of them. I nodded, and they lightly smiled. "Do you mind if I borrow that?"

I looked down to the spray can in my hand, and nod. I wouldn't usually encourage law breaking, but in that case it was necessary. Their hand took the can from mine and walked past me, stopping a few feet in front of the wall, and raised the can. Their finger pressed down on the top, and the paint started to spray out on the wall. Then, I read the writing that was written aloud.

"'Wir werden gewinnen'." I said, and in response, their head nodded slowly up and down.

"Well we will, won't we?" A smile appeared across their lips, and I nodded, feeling slightly more hopeful than I was before. I never did learn of what '_we_' truly meant, whether they meant the Allies over the Soviet Union or us against the wall, but it didn't matter. Art is interpreted by the eye of the beholder, and for me, there was only _one _meaning behind it.

I didn't see the stranger after that encounter, but apparently, people started to hear of what we were doing. I was afraid that we were going to get into trouble when I first heard the news, but it seemed that my people wanted to join in. So, I allowed it. As I continued to walk beside the wall every so often, new art would appear, and it made me truly happy. But it was a sore reminder of how devastatingly blank the other side was. I wanted East and his people to be free, and it was so painful knowing it was impossible for me or anyone else to do so just yet. So this would have to suffice for the time.

And then, it was 1973.

"_You will be meeting with East next week, Germany. We will be formally establishing diplomatic ties between the two of you," _England said without a smile, but it was clear he _did _feel at peace inside, _"you should be very happy, Germany, and we are indeed very happy for you."_

"_Thank you for this news, England, all of you." _ I said portraying the same blank expression, but I was also grateful. How could I not be? There was _finally _to be peace in my country, as well as East's. But there was one thing that concerned me. If I was to join with East, and he to join with me, which one of us would stay alive? Or, would we _both _be alive?

I had concluded since my first and only encounter that East was not who I hoped he would be. It was hard to except, but it was the true. Preuβen wasn't even _half _of East. The other half was, what I imagined, _me_. It wasn't only the physical differences, either.

It was as if he had temporary amnesia! I only met him once and he kept playing with me, saying he didn't know me and calling my name the next! It was so hard to know what to think, but I had to trust my instincts. It was awful of me to expect him to be someone he wasn't, and I wasn't going to let that get in the way of my peace. I would be civil. I would be organised. I wouldn't say _a single thing_ about it. If he didn't know me then, he wouldn't know me afterwards. But something kept nagging at me.

_He remembers_, I felt myself think, inwardly slapping myself to try and make my mind _shut up_. It had been decades since Preuβen passed. Why wasn't I _over_ it?

I went to the decided meeting place. Any passerby's who walked past me smiled. _Clearly they want this too_, I mindlessly thought, straightening my tie and brushing down my already-tidy blazer. I needed this to go smoothly with no interruptions, as instructed by England, France and America, and about anyone else who wanted this meeting to go through, which was everybody. In all reality it was the Allies who were pulling the strings. Even if I didn't attend this meeting they would have gone ahead with it themselves. But I didn't care about the symbolism, or the meaning at the time, as much as I did care for my people. I needed to see East, for closure. It was improbable we would meet again; after all, this would mean the end of the wall, wouldn't it?

I knocked on the door with some hesitation, but I found the strength. Then, I waited. Then, the door opened.

East sat at a grand table with chairs positioned all along the outside. Considering it was meant for only I and him there were far too many, and then my worst fears came true.

We weren't there to make the ties ourselves, even though we were perfectly capable. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Allies shortly followed me in, offering me brief, apologetic nods as they ducked into the room. I didn't even want to reward them with even a glance. But I knew that this was the best way, and sulking wasn't appropriate and would only make the situation worse, so I looked up and nodded shortly in return. It was all they deserved.

The diplomatic relations passed quickly but meaningfully once Russia arrived, being the head of the Soviet Union. Then, once a lot of paperwork was passed around and hands were shook they left, gesturing for me and East to follow. I stood up to follow them, shooting East what I hoped looked like a meaningful glance, and then turned on my heels. But then East said something.

"Excuse me?" I said, turning around to face him.

He looked up at me, his face bare. Then he repeated himself.

"Can I talk with you, West?"

I nodded and sat on the chair nearest to him. He stood up and closed the door, and turned back to me with his eyebrows drawn together and the corners of his lips downturned.

"What did you want to talk about?" I said stupidly, already knowing the answer.

"When the wall comes down, West," he said, turning his gaze away from mine, "I want you to live on."

"_What?_" I almost shouted, managing to control the frustration in my voice. He couldn't have been serious. It wasn't even _possible_, let alone _plausible!_

"You have a lot more experience to take from the world, West. You're a lot younger than I am. It's only fair, isn't it?" he said, moving toward me. "I want you to–"

"It's not happening," I said, ignoring the light gasp he sounded in response, "I will _not _let you die for me."

And in the silence that followed, I realised what he said. And then he realised what _he _said.

"You've only been here a few decades..."

My voice drifted off into silence, when it started to dawn on me that Preuβen had been gone for around that much time. In fact, he had left at the same time East entered, short of a few years.

"That's _enough_, West. You will take my place, and–"

"_How _do you even suppose I do that, Preu– I-I mean, East?" I started to splutter the words in my frustration and my mouth ended up tripping over my tongue, meanwhile I was trying to fit the pieces together of a nonsensical puzzle in my head. _That would mean there would have been a time when–_

My chain of thoughts suddenly came to an end when a loud whimper echoed in my ears. I turned around to face East, who was burying his head in his hands, shuddering softly all the way through. Then, the shaking became more obvious.

I quickly pushed my chair back from the table and stood up, walking over to him. I moved a hand toward his shoulder, but he batted it away with one of his hands. I gasped and stumbled backwards at what I could see.

His eyes were switching between a deep indigo and a blood-red a mile a minute. He didn't attempt to cover it. I looked to his hair, expecting exactly what I saw; it was becoming noticeably warmer and blonder one second and pale silver the next. I didn't know what on _earth _was going on, but at the same time, I did. But it was impossible. I always knew that. I always _told_ myself that. When did I stop believing it? When did I even _start _believing it?

And then it dawned on me. I _never _doubted who East was, or where Preuβen might have ended up. It couldn't be coincidental! If his eyes and hair were crazy enough to change colour then I might as well have been crazy enough to believe what I thought it meant!

I went for it.

"Preuβen?" I whispered, moving my hand toward him again, only for his to shoot toward mine. _I knew it_.

But my hand wasn't batted away. Instead, his hand curled around my wrist, stopping me from moving it despite my protests. I looked to him in awe. In the silence that fell I started to tell myself it didn't mean _anything_, but my other thoughts that raced at double the speed of sound told me otherwise. They made me _believe _otherwise.

I shouted to him, to try and find my Bruder. "_Preuβen!_"

He looked to me with utter confusion, but somehow understanding. "Deutschland...?"

I nodded thoughtfully, and he did the same in return. Then, he fell, and I caught him and held him to me again, and he started to cry into me.

He looked shaken, and broken. He was weak, but so, so _innocent_. It was hard to see him in such a state again.

I rubbed my hand up and down his back, and his shuddering eventually subsided. For this I was grateful. I didn't want the last time I would see my brother to be a solemn one, even if it was going to feel that way afterwards, anyway.

After that, I didn't think we would ever encounter again.

After that conference the pressure started to grow for the wall to be taken down. America's boss visited the wall even, and urged Russia's boss to take it down. East's fate was on the recovery. He was to be free soon, I knew it! He would be finally _free _from all of this mess he was dragged into!

Several days into November I was notified that there was to be a demonstration in Berlin, by none other than East himself. Although it was impossible for me to witness it myself, I knew it must have been great. If it wasn't, why else would his boss have resigned?

It was incredible news! East had won. He had won the battle, a lot more than I could claim I had done for him. Or, maybe that _wasn't _the case. I hoped that I somehow inspired him to go on, but I'm not so sure. My Bruder was always strong and never shied away from a battle, and this was his final and greatest one!

Since the government resigned, everything was at a sort of standstill almost. I was called to another meeting with the people who governed me, and I accepted their request. There wasn't going to be any bad news, only good, and that was the best thing I could have wished for.

"_I assume you're aware that the government has resigned, Allemagne?"_

"_Yes, fully so."_

"_Do you plan on visiting your brother, Germany?"_

"_M-my brother?"_

"_Well, you're West Germany and he's East Germany. You're two sides of the same coin, aren't you?"_

"_Y-yes, that is true, England."_

"_So are you going to visit your bro or not, dude?"_

"_Yes, I will. Thank you for all your support, from of all you, France, England, and America."_

"_The pleasure's entirely ours, Germany. So, how about you visit on the ninth this month? That should give you some time to prepare."_

"_Thank you, I shall."_

And so I did.

I stood by the Berlin Wall on the ninth of November, 1989, facing my painting from a few metres back. It was a simple painting, really; two hands held each other, the German flag flying proudly in the background behind them. And, as the tiniest of tributes, I wrote a small message under one of the hands. "_Gilbert lebt_," I whispered, a weary and sorrowful smile spreading across my face proudly, "and he _always _will."

Since then there were many paintings put up, all of different things, but many keeping to my, or rather that stranger's, original message – _'Wir werden gewinnen'_. And the message rang true, just as everyone knew it would. _We _have _won, _I thought to myself, and I exhaustedly sighed, thankful for the quiet in that moment. But the peace wasn't to be kept.

Shouting could be heard coming from the other side, breaking the freshly kept peace, and all the wounds that re-opened with it. _This cannot be happening_, I thought, panic rising inside of me as I tried to think of a way to find out what was happening, _what is happening? _

Then, I hear a calm reply. I couldn't believe it. It was happening _now_. The end! The end had finally come, and with it would crumble all the peace we envisioned, as the real peace crashed through. The wall was coming down. It was _over_.

Suddenly the sound of scrambling could be heard as a set of hands gripped onto the very tip of the wall's edge, and then a body emerged as they pulled themselves up. Then happy cheer and applause and more shuffling came from the other side. Then another came over the wall. And then another, and another, and another, and _another!_ Then I saw the face I never expected to see _leaving _the East. It _was _East, pulling himself over the side of the wall. He looked up to me with a great look of pure _relief_. He was free. He had made it out alive with all his people. It was spectacular!

East ran over to me, making sure to keep us out of his people's way, but close enough to check on the safety of them. We watched in awe as parts of the wall began to come away as more and more crossed the border, embracing each other and laughing and cheering.

"We have won." he said quietly, almost as if he didn't quite believe it, and then when nobody argued with him he began to shout out of joy! "We have _won! _We have _won_, we have _won_, _we have_ _won!_"

He pulled me tightly into a bear hug, where he started to walk in circles completely dazed and overcome with joy, laughing and chanting his familiar phrase as he did so! I started to do the same, and I found myself laughing, something I _never _did, especially not in public!But this was different. It felt comfortable. It felt _necessary_.

The next year we passed together, happily enjoying each other's company by the comfort of the wall. We couldn't see each other as often as we had hoped to, but in the time that we _did _share, we did so happily. He found himself spending time with his Bruder, whether as the east of me or as my long dead Preuβen, it didn't matter. And in him I found comfort as well, as any kind of Bruder just the same, whether he knew me as his new one or as his old, it _also_ didn't matter. I had found a Bruder again. I had found a _family _again. I found someone that loved me, and wanted to help me no matter what.

And so in 1990, on the third of October, we formally reunited. He disappeared from the earth just like Preuβen, and I found myself alone again. But I felt different after. And the one thing I found myself thinking of was my times as a child with Preuβen, and the times I spent with him over the Berlin Wall.

And strangely, as impossible as it was, I found myself smiling at a new memory I had never experienced before. I saw myself as a child, a new born by the looks of my size, and my pale, pale hands picked up my younger self, smiling at the warmth felt as soon as the bundle in wraps touched me, and I heard my voice whisper softly, _"I love you, Deutschland, and don't ever forget it!", _and I saw my younger self giggle. I could have sworn, however, that my younger self said something to me, it most definitely started with a 'p', and I smiled in return.

I couldn't have been happier in that memory; I don't think I ever will be that happy again.

* * *

**Edit#2: I take full responsibility for the historical, and frankly geographical, inaccuracies I have noticed, the most prominent being that the location of "Prussia" was given to Poland and Russia, so I don't think much of or any of East Germany/Prussia overlapped. But, in this sense, think of it as that Germany was seeing the spirit of his brother in the section that broke away from himself, his other half, if that is a nice way to put it. **

**Edit: Thank you guys for your reviews and favourites! It makes me very happy that you like my story, it took me awhile to write it! I just had to release those German brother feels, and I thought this was the best way. Thanks again!**


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